Insanity
by ThatClutzsarahh
Summary: Eventually, it's always like father like son.


**i wrote this a while ago, just never published it. thought i might do so here. obviously it's AU now, since what happened to Peter.**

**I own the typos only.**

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><p>"They didn't let you out today."<p>

Peter heard the murmur around him, but did not open his eyes. He allowed to himself to be engulfed in darkness because it soothed him. He would open his eyes when he was ready. And he was certainly not ready. He inhaled, and the scent of light citrus filled his noise as he did so, a scent that would forever haunt him.

"I know," he answered aloud, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He held his eyes shut tightly, not daring to open them. It wasn't because he didn't want to see _her_, because God did he want to see her, but because he didn't want to see where he was.

"It's because you attacked that guy yesterday."

"You told me too," he said angrily, "You said he was a shapeshifter."

"I was right."

"That's beside the point," he grumbled. "The point is that you're in my head. Only in my head."

"That's your fault."

"I know," he answered simply. He brought his curled knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There was a soft rustle and a warm presence was felt next to him and he shuddered at the sudden lack of warmth from the ground on which he sat. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, hoping that everything would just go away. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder did he jolt his head up, eyes open and shuddered beneath his own mind's touch.

Her angelic face met his gaze, beautiful spindly golden hair that wrapped around her pale face like a halo, green eyes like gentle seas and a soft pair of lips. She smiled at him, teeth gleaming innocently at him.

"Hey."

"Hi," he answered. She stared at him, her eyes diving down to his lips and then to his, almost as if she was daring him to kiss her. He leaned, almost as if he were to and paused. He wanted to drink from those lips again, to taste her one last time-

No.

He pulled back and looked away, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them. The last version of her he kissed wasn't her. Why should he deserve the taste of her skin on his tongue, ever? He watched as she stood up and moved away, sitting on his bed while he sat in the corner. There was a distinct look of hurt in her eyes and it appeared it wasn't going away. He sighed.

"Olivia-"

"I get it."

He sighed as she turned her head from him. There was a knock on the door and Peter looked up, watching as a man in a white suit opened the slit to looked at him.

"Dinner time, Mr. Bishop," the man said in a sickly sweet tone. Peter stood. His feet a little unstable, he stepped back as the man opened the door. Olivia watched him from her spot on the bed, the man placing the tray down on the table by the nightstand near where Olivia sat, feet folded under her. He set the tray down and then turned to Peter as he stood in his corner.

"Maybe tomorrow you will be allowed out," the man said with a pitiful smile.

"Doubtful," Peter mumbled lowly, knowing the man would not hear. The man backed from the room to let Peter get back to his dark cell. Olivia sighed loudly as Peter ignored her and went to sit to eat.

"It's Monday."

"So?" Peter grumbled dipping his spoon into his pudding cup.

"It's that butterscotch pudding again."

"Fuck!" Peter looked down at his spoon, dipped deep into the cup and curse loudly, flinging his spoon onto the tray and laying back against the bed, head on the pillow. "Damnit Olivia! What the hell? Can't you just leave me alone!"

He cursed over and over again until he settled into quietness. It was quiet in his cell for a while and he was wondering if she had gone away. Instantly he was saddened at the thought she had gone away. He rubbed a hand over his face and went to turn his head when he saw her crawl onto his lap, straddling his waist with her delicious female weight. Her fingers spread cross his chest as she ran them up and down.

"No," he whispered, grasping her fingers in his. He wasn't going to let his mind do this to him. It wasn't right, it would never be right. Instantly she yanked her hands away from his, her eyes becoming angry daggers at him. He sighed and rolled his head away from her, only to have her yank his chin back to look at him.

"I'm sick of this."

"You're in my head!" he shouted at her. It wouldn't make a difference. His mind wanted what his mind wanted.

"It's your fault!"

"I know that!" he screeched back, "I can't do anything about it anymore! In case you haven't noticed, I'm locked away in an insane asylum because you're here!"

"It's all your fault."

Her voice was on the verge of tears. He had to look away, look anywhere. He couldn't stand to see Olivia cry, not even his mind would allow him to watch her face. He felt her warm hands creep up under his shirt, and she pulled it off him, the starch white linen fluttering uselessly to the ground. Her fingers were instant pain, yet they relieved him more than she'd ever know.

"We can't do this, not again, he whispered to her. "Please Olivia."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, watching her beautiful eyes fill with confusion. Most of it was hurting confusion, and he reached a hand up to caress her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the warmest point on her face. She leaned against his skin and nuzzled her face on it, her lips brushing against his palm.

"Why?"

"The last time we did that, you disappeared for weeks," he explained softly, "I was going crazy."

"Impossible."

"Really?" he questioned, watching amusement dance in her eyes.

"You're already crazy."

"Yeah," he said sadly, looking away from her. Then there was the silence. It was a heavy silence. She climbed off his lap and laid down next to him, her head resting on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. She could hear his heart beat as he stroke her hair gently.

"You never come," he said gently, "You never come to see me."

"You'd never recognize me if I did."

"I believe you," he murmured, looking at his untouched food of tray, "You wouldn't recognize me either."

"Yeah."

Peter brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, humming as he wrapped an arm around her waist. The lay still and silent for a moment and Peter slid his eyes closed, resting his head back. He was nearly asleep when he felt soft warm lips touching his neck. He groaned and tightened his hold on the waist of the mind-generated Olivia as she touched him.

"Livia," he murmured, "We can't do this."

"Shut up Peter."

"Olivia, please," he groaned, a bit of a whine in his voice. He felt her jerk out of his arms and roll over him, jumping off the bed, her back to him. He could see her skin, pale in the dark light and her hair, an almost angelic glow to it. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's because of her, isn't it Peter? Even before all this you wouldn't touch me."

"You know that's not _why_," Peter argued, but Olivia wasn't having any of it, she turned her face to him so he could see her unhappy features, her eyes clearly not buying it.

"It is because of her. Don't bullshit me. I know the truth and now, even when I come to see, which I do, you won't look at me, acknowledge me. So I don't even know why I'm still here right now-"

"Because I don't want you to go," Peter pleaded with his own mind.

"You left me."

"I know," he answered, the desperate beg in his voice evident. Olivia turned and stepped into the corner of the room.

"You never apologized."

"I'm sorry," he murmured to her from his spot on his bunk. He didn't make a move to her, because he knew that she would flutter away and she'd be gone back into his mind for God knows how long. Instead he watched her move to him, gliding across the ground and towards him in the ghastly moonlight. Peter watched, transfixed on her movements as she came to rest on the bed next to him. The bed dipped, further verifying that perhaps she _was_ real and it _wasn't _a dream. She placed a small warm hand on his chest and he felt his skin prickle and tingle underneath the chill of her palm. Her golden hair swung over her shoulder and she smiled at him for the first time ever, a warm heart breaking smile.

That was all in his head.

He rolled away from her like she was a bucket of cold, frozen ice. She watched him leave her grasp ad he moved away. She turned her head from him and the smile was gone, just like the sun had been gone for so many years for him. She turned back upset and raging, a glint in her eyes he'd only seen once before.

"Look at me!" she screeched and the buttons on her shirt flew away. It was revealed to him a shimmering space, nothing more than an invisibility of a body that should be bare to him. He stares openly, hoping if he looks long enough, skin and flesh and bone would appear to him. But luck was not his friend. And lady luck had cheated on him. His gaze bore into the clear body before he met her gaze. Tears had sprung to her eyes.

"Liv-"

"You're a horrible monster," she whispered, looking at him, "You won't even imagine me this way. Did you ever really want me in the first place?"

"Olivia," he growled at her ghostly presence. "Don't doubt I've never wanted you for a second. I've always wanted you. But to imagine your skin would do you no justice. I could never do it."

Olivia's eyes softened for a moment and she let the fabric flap in the breeze, the invisible skin of her just showing to no one. She sank to her knees in his padded room. He watched her sit there, silent silver tears on her face.

"Peter," she said quietly, "What have you done?"

Peter pondered the question for a few millaseconds before he answered with a low, guilty voice.

"I don't know."

He slunk back against his bunk and stared at his hands in his lap. What _had_ he done?

"I think," he whispered, "It's time you came to see me."

"I'm always here."

Peter sighed.

"Of course you are."

There was a silence in the room and Peter stayed still for a few moments.

"I miss you," he murmured into the air. When he looked up, he found she had gone. His brow furrowed.

"Fuck!" he cursed, slamming his fist into the ground. He heard the knuckles crack and break and then suddenly the alarm of his room sounds and the lights are thrown on and he's being hauled away. It doesn't take a genius to remind him where he was.

Insanity, it seemed, runs in the family.

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><p>And Fin. What do you think? You like? you hate? tell me please :)<p> 


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